March 5, 2008

writing is both torment and joy. it has always been so and i know it very well. but every time it feels different – both the torment and the joy. every time i have to relearn the difficult process of conveying thoughts into words, of articulating docile and coherent utterances, of recognizing the phrases on the screen as the odd distorted edge of something that was supposed to be mine, but it doesn’t feel so. i know it changes, i have to let it change. that’s the joy of not recognizing it as belonging to me, but starting to like it. maybe that’s the only way of liking it, when it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. i don’t own my writing.


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